


Victory

by FlirtyFroggy



Series: What You Want [9]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M, Unrepentant Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:06:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlirtyFroggy/pseuds/FlirtyFroggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The room was empty, but Rafa’s bag sat open on the floor and David could hear the shower running. Javi looked slowly round the empty room and then turned to David with a smile. “I’ll go find Marta and the others and we can talk after you’re done with the press. Enjoy your victory.” He cast a knowing glance at the shower room and then turned and left, which was fortunate as David had no idea what to say to that. </i>
</p><p>Bercy 2013, after the semi-final.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Victory

**Author's Note:**

> I have little time to write anything at the moment but I had to do _something_ after David finally won.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not meant to imply anything about any actual people or their lives. It's just for fun.

He would never grow tired of this feeling. Nobody did, he had found on the rare occasions that players actually talked about it amongst themselves. It never lasted and every time it seemed to fade that little bit more quickly, and every time they chased it harder and harder; a multi-million dollar global industry built around a bunch of addicts trying to get their fix. But it was worth it, all of it – the restricted diets, the insane hours, the months away from home, the stupid questions, the gym sessions that made your lungs and muscles scream. It was all forgotten the instant the ball flashed past your opponent for the last time and the umpire called ‘game, set, match’. 

Javi pushed the locker-room door open for him and they entered awkwardly, Javi’s arm still slung around his shoulder. The room was empty, but Rafa’s bag sat open on the floor and David could hear the shower running. Javi looked slowly round the empty room and then turned to David with a smile. “I’ll go find Marta and the others and we can talk after you’re done with the press. Enjoy your victory.” He cast a knowing glance at the shower room and then turned and left, which was fortunate as David had no idea what to say to that. He hadn’t told Javi anything, he had promised Rafa he wouldn’t, and they certainly hadn’t talked about it, but of course Javi knew anyway.

He threw his bag down next to Rafa’s, toed off his shoes and peeled off his sweat-soaked socks. Every inch of him burned to join Rafa in the shower and, as Javi had so subtly put it, enjoy his victory. Instead, he sat down on the bench. He had no idea how Rafa was going to react to this. Months ago Rafa had told him, ordered him, to beat him, but those had been words said in anger and he didn’t know if Rafa still wanted that. And besides, things had changed between them since then.

David hadn’t asked Rafa why he would want to be beaten, and Rafa hadn’t volunteered the information, but David had formulated a theory over the last few months. Actually, he had formulated several but he had realised pretty quickly that ‘for the novelty’ was probably not it; Rafa might win more than most but he was hardly a stranger to losing. Given what David now knew of Rafa’s tastes in bed he had come to the conclusion that Rafa’s unacknowledged desires had been unconsciously transferred to the court. Now that Rafa’s needs were being fulfilled off the court, David was not confident that what he had said in Madrid still held. He didn’t for a second think Rafa would be angry with him, but after the Roland Garros final David had needed a few hours before he went to Rafa. He didn’t want to go barging in making assumptions and demands if all Rafa wanted was to be alone.

From the next room the sound of the shower petered out and a minute later Rafa appeared, a towel around his waist and his hair dripping water over his shoulders. He stopped when he saw David then glanced quickly round the room. “We’re alone,” David said, standing up. “For now.” Rafa didn’t say anything, didn’t move. He just stood there, watching him with dark eyes, his face unreadable. David felt his stomach flip with desire and apprehension. 

Then Rafa was crossing the room with quick strides and before David had even had time to feel relieved he was taking David’s face in his hands and kissing him. He kissed him and kissed him until they were both gasping. “I’ve never seen you play like that,” Rafa murmured, his breath hot against David’s cheek.

David smiled. “Is that what you wanted?” he said, teasing, on surer footing now he knew what game they were playing. 

“Yes,” Rafa whispered, closing his eyes. “God, yes.” He opened his eyes and looked straight at David. “You have no idea, David, Christ. What I want, I – fuck. You have no idea.”

“Do you?” David asked. It was something he had wondered about – how much did Rafa understand about his own desires? It was one of the reasons David hadn’t asked him about it. It felt like something he needed to figure out for himself.

“I –” Rafa frowned and shook his head. “You. I want you. Always. All the time. I want you to kiss me and touch me and talk to me when you’ve had a bad day and complain when I leave my crap everywhere. I want you to text me first thing in the morning and call me last thing at night. I want you to make me scream and beg. I want you to hold me down and say my name as you come. I want you to play amazing tennis and kick my arse all over the court.”

Somehow David managed to pull himself together enough following this little speech to say, “Well I already did the last part.” Then any capacity for thought vanished and he set to work on fulfilling the rest of Rafa’s wishes, or at least the ones that were currently relevant and quickly accomplishable in a public locker room.

Rafa’s towel was discarded almost immediately, followed quickly by David’s t-shirt and shorts. This was no time to be taking things slowly, even if they wanted to. They both gasped at the skin-to-skin contact, and Rafa moaned something indistinct into David’s hair. David pulled Rafa’s head down and kissed him hard, then pushed him to the floor. He took a moment to run his thumb along Rafa’s cheekbone before settling over him and diving back into the kiss. Rafa’s arms wrapped around his back and he pulled David down against him, pressing their erections excruciatingly, exquisitely together. For a moment the world went blank and then David broke the kiss, reached around and tugged at Rafa’s arm. Rafa let go and let David take his hands, pinning them beside his head. He ground his hips down against Rafa’s, feeling himself fall apart a little more with every thrust, Rafa’s cries ragged and desperate in his ear. 

He didn’t know whether or not he said Rafa’s name when he came. He wasn’t aware of much besides the quick-build of irrestistable tension and the overwhelming pleasure of release and the almost-painful grip Rafa had on his hands. 

After a minute or two, still a little dizzy, he raised his head to find Rafa looking up at him, flushed and breathless, his wet hair clinging to his temples and cheeks. He let go of David's hands and pulled him down for a soft lingering kiss, then pushed him away with a sigh. “We should get up and shower,” he said.

“Someone could walk in. And we’ve still got press to do,” David agreed, reality crashing inevitably back into their little bubble. 

“That, and this floor is really uncomfortable,” Rafa said with a grin. David laughed. They stood up, grabbed fresh towels and headed for the showers. “We need to stop this,” Rafa said, out of nowhere. David stopped so abruptly he almost slipped on the wet floor. 

“What?” he said, his heart pounding.

“This,” Rafa said, waving a hand around. “Sex in locker rooms. We’re going to get caught. It’s a miracle we haven’t been already.”

“Oh,” David said. “I thought – nevermind.” Rafa gave him an exasperated look and turned the water on.

“You’re an idiot,” Rafa said with an affectionate smile. David had to agree. Rafa wrapped his arms around David’s waist and planted a kiss on his lips. “I love you,” he said. “I love you when you’re winning and I love you when you’re losing and I love you when you’re being an idiot. I don’t want this to stop. I don’t ever want this to stop.” 

Unable to formulate any sort of a reply, David did the next best thing and pulled Rafa into a long, slow kiss. The water poured down around them, calloused fingers smoothed over wet skin, and their kiss grew more intense.

The press could wait.


End file.
